


Safe

by Mamogirl



Category: Backstreet Boys
Genre: Angst, Brian is protective, Danger, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I'm mean, Implied Brian/Nick relationship even if not mentioned, Kidnapping, Oneshot, Psychological Trauma, Tourture, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:08:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23244526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mamogirl/pseuds/Mamogirl
Summary: But he was ready to fight. This time, he wouldn’t surrender so easily. His fingers tightened around the piece of glass and he didn’t care or even notice that if that makeshift blade scarred his skin or the pain created by the contact. There was only one thing on Brian’s mind, one only thought: no one would get through that door, even if it meant that they had to walk over his dead body. No one would get the chance to start that torture all over again.One thing Brian was sure of at that moment: he would fight. And he wasn’t going to go down without a fight.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	Safe

**Author's Note:**

> So, because of the quarantine here in Italy (13th day.), I'm organizing and cleaning my works on my laptop and notebooks (man, if I could write all these ideas I've left around through the years! lol). This one was a story that I started many many moons ago and, since I don't think I will come around and finish (there is no planning and, at the moment, I don't even remember what I wanted to write), I've decided to put together all I have so far and leave it as an one-shot. It can work, right? XD

Safe

_Plin. Plin. Plin. Plin._

The repetitive sound of water, dripping in a corner, was the only sound that broke through the thick blanket of silence. An ocean of blackness swam around the four walls, making almost impossible to see where that sound came from or the two figures held prisoners inside it.

"Bri?"

"Hm?"

"Do you think someone will come to rescue us?"

It took a moment for Brian to reply, a second that he used to search for something comforting to say, something that would make Nick hold on a little longer.

"Of course. - Brian lied, succeeding in blocking the sigh, albeit with difficulty, before it could fly out from his lips and let itself be heard by Nick. Yet, he was relieved that darkness turned out to be a faithful mask because, if there had been even a small light, his lie would probably have been exposed in less than a breath. - You'll see. Soon they will come to save us." It was hope that was forcing him to talk like that, a last and trembling flame burning weakly inside him and feeding away the harsh and sharp claws of desperation and despair.

He had to hope for Nick’s sake.

"You should try to escape and...” A cough interrupted him before Nick could continue, making Brian wince and frown his brow with worry and fear: that mix of rattle and rough sounds had appeared a few hours before, or at least that was what Brian thought: since the beginning it had been difficult to count the hours or just how much time passed from one moment to another.

_From one session and another_.

Hours, minutes and days all blurred together in a slow and almost endless stream of darkness and that constant echoes of water dipping; the room, where they were being held prisoners for who knew how long, didn’t even have a window so Brian couldn’t use the passing of light to determine if it was day or night. He couldn’t even define when his worry and concern about Nick’s condition had started to arise, blocking and making his own pain fade away: they couldn’t escape, locked and without even knowing where they had been brought; he had nothing to help Nick, only that tiny hope that that cough was just a direct consequence of not having much water around. His brain didn’t even want to try and think about other causes, otherwise it would be soon eaten away by that feeling of being helpless and useless that had started to nestle in the pit of his stomach.

And Nick counted on him, Nick counted on his calmness and his being practical.

_“It's just dehydration”_ Brian found himself praying as he took off his sweatshirt, shivering when the cold air came in contact with the skin. A flame of pain rose like an arrow from his shoulder but he was able to silence the moan as he placed the garment on Nick in order to cover even more. It would not do much, especially if they continued to stay in that place.

"You will die from the cold." It was the feeble protest coming from Nick. In the darkness, the only thing he could focus on was only Brian’s silhouette and he could hardly catch a glimpse of how many more layers of clothing he had left. Nick could only hope that Brian had kept up with his habit of wearing as much as clothes possible.

"Don’t worry." The corners of Brian’s lips curved into a smile, though it was impossible to notice it in the darkness.

"You should get away. Ask for help. " Nick repeated, since the first time he had made that suggestion Brian had completely ignored it and played like he hadn’t listened.

"Don’t be silly. - The tone turned cold, as if it were the last thing that Brian had thought he could do to get out of that situation. - And leave you here alone?"

"Don’t even think about it. - Nick replied, fearing the idea that could be going around and around inside Brian’s mind. - You would never manage to drag and take me out from wherever we are. "

"I admit I’ve thought about it. But you're still too heavy for me. " Brian replied with a hoarse laugh. When was the last time he had done? Joke, melt a bit 'of the tension that was holding them captive more of the tight ropes they had around their wrists before? But that was the only way Brian knew, laughing and joking, even though all he wanted to do was scream and be finally able to surrender to the despair that was trying to force its way inside him.

"Because I have a lot of muscles." Nick objected, following the trail left by Brian. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend that the walls around them were, in fact, the walls of the gym where they still were practicing for the tour. He could pretend, yes, that they were just the two of them because Aj had gone out to smoke a cigarette, because Kevin had had to call Kristin to know how the children were and because Howie took that opportunity to go to the bathroom: they would come back soon, soon they would go back to practice and dancing and Kevin would be so angry because he had hurt his ankle. But in the meantime, while they still waited for them to come back , he and Brian were able to continue with the exchange of words, making him remember the days when they would be able and managed to make everyone else crazy with their antics and craziness.

The silence continued, although interspersed with that continuous _plin_ that had become like a nightmare. "Bri?" Nick tried to call him, his tone uncertain between fear and anxiety: Brian had never told him what they had done to him and in the darkness it was impossible to decipher gestures and movements. If he could get up and be on his feet, Nick knew that he would be able to convince him to answer that question because Brian wouldn’t be able to turn around or hide. For now and until they would be found, Nick could only hope that whatever _they_ had done to him it was nothing serious. Although, with Brian, he had learned not to be surprised by anything.

When Brian finally answered, it was with a harsh yes, the kind that refused any argument or objection, but also with the kindness of those who would never abandon a friend in need. "I'm not leaving you here alone. What if _they_ return? No, no. Forget it."

Nick's response was lost in another and another cough. This time it lasted longer, firing the throat that already seemed to be on the verge of catching fire and that wrenching sound occupied most of the air, echoing ominously through the narrow walls. With eyes closed, breathing heavily and gasping, Nick found himself leaning against the cold wall while a bottle of water appeared in front of his lips. There was not much left, even though they had tried to ration the amounts which had been delivered to them. "Bri ..."

A caress leaned on his hair while the other hand drew circles on his back. "Better?"

"Tell me that wasn’t the last bottle ..."

"Don’t worry. - The lie slipped away weak, crushed by the realization that the situation was getting more and more gray as time went on inexorably. - Why don’t you sleep a little? I’ll stay awake."

"Wake me up in a few hours, I give you the change." Nick replied, trying to find a comfortable position on that sort of cot that was too short for his legs, so that they remained standing without support and dangling from the edge, and too tight, although he was sure that Brian would fit there perfectly. But, stubborn and obstinate as ever, the older had preferred to let him lie on it, deciding to remain on the floor and ready in case their abusers decided it was time to come back. It made sense, there was a fund of logic and truth in that choice and decision, but that didn’t mean that Nick just had to share it or be content. He had always hated having to feel useless, even though it was the first time that they found themselves in those circumstances. And what made him feel even worse was realizing that it was the truth, at that moment the only thing he could do was lie down and hope not to have worsened his condition while that infinite waiting made them weaker and weaker. Yes, the fact that he could only pray and hope was what made that situation even more unbearable because it made him suffer like that useless kid of so many years ago, the one who no one would entrust their security or asked for protection. Again, however, he would have to depend on Brian.

Brian didn’t answer him, ignoring that request just like he had done before. Because, even if he had the possibility, he knew that he would never be able to fall asleep, letting himself and Nick being vulnerable and helpless. That was perhaps the worst part of their capture: not knowing what would happen, that waiting so unnerving and agonizing with no clue if they were completely alone, or if their torturers were just having fun while watching them going insane and crazy. A part of him hoped it was the first option, that they had been left completely alone and just waiting for someone or something to save them but another, smitten by anger, demanded and needed a further comparison, a face-to-face when he could lash out and finally bring justice and revenge to those tortured bodies. Despite logic always had to intrude and now it was reminding him that he would most likely not come out victorious from that fight. Most likely, his move could be the worst suicide missions ever given his conditions.

Always listening closely to every sounds and movement, he caught the moment when Nick fell asleep, deep breaths without any wheezing that would speak of an infection. “ _Thank God._ ” Brian found himself thinking while, slowly and carefully, he got up from his position. Bruises and wounds returned finally free to protest and shout their presence, firing with their screams every nerve, muscle and inch of skin. Only a weak moan of pain escaped his lips, as if even his voice was no longer able to cry or free from the chains in which it had remained a prisoner until that moment. He waited until the world, or rather the darkness, stopped turning around him as if it had been practicing some dancing moves before doing a clumsy first step, dissolving the tingling that were formed during inactivity. Slowly, with a speed that reminded him of an old man, Brian was able to reach the area from which came the continuous sound of water falling on the floor. A drop splashed on his shoe, where the pink had become a dim memory because of the dirt, dust and blood, and Brian set his now empty bottle at tat precise point: the nightmarish plin changed into a sound more dull and plastic. He had to fight back the objection that came from his mind, " _maybe the water isn’t even drinkable_ ", because it paled in front of the real possibility that, without water, they would not survive long in that place.

_“Someone is coming. Someone has to come and save us. Someone must arrive. They cannot leave us here forever.”_ Brian didn’t know who was addressing exactly those words to but someone, sooner or later, would have to pick up those petitions. In one way or another.

Assured that the bottle remained standing even alone, Brian began to walk around the perimeter of the cell, trying to get an idea or find something that he hadn’t seen during his previous explorations. There was no light, only a tiny window from which came a glimmer of minimum fresh air and they were fortunate that, wherever they were, it wasn’t too hot. Brian was sure that they would have died in there after a few days been higher. So he continued his slow walk and, arrived at the door, he had to stop to catch his breath. Nick was lucky, in a sense, not to remember how they had ended up in hell.

He hadn’t been so lucky. He was forced to remember how it all happened so suddenly, without any warning or notice. He was forced to be reminded of how these men had appeared out of nowhere while he and Nick were on their way to the Starbucks on the corner, the closer and more real excuse to get away from the hotel and the pressure of the promotion for the new album. He was forced to remember the look of utter fear appeared on Nick's face when he was blocked by much larger and muscular arms than his, unable to scream. He remembered how he had to avoid any attempt to escape for fear of what would happen to Nick if he did run: with everything going on in that world, Brian knew that he would have never be able to forgive himself if anything happened to Nick because he wanted to be a hero.

The only thing he seemed he couldn’t remember was how they came in that cell, though. Both him and Nick had lost consciousness during the journey, even if Brian could not say if they had been drugged or otherwise, at least in his case. The cut on the forehead of Nick, however, spoke and told something else, such as his fear every time the boy fell asleep. Though he remembered what one doctor had told him once, that head wounds bled more and more abundantly than the others, but those words couldn’t let anxiety and fears escape, giving reality to those little shaken that always reported Nick back from sleep. From that moment, however, even his memories were starting to get confused, like he was in one of those dreams that you had only a vague memory, although the emotions and feelings seemed to be more true and real than ever. One thing he never would forget, that Brian was so sure and secure of: waking up and finding himself alone in that room. Waking up and hearing Nick’s screams. Waking up and finding that he couldn’t get out of that place, he could do nothing to help his best friend, the younger brother who had sworn to protect from day one and that he had often disappointed and failed. Waking up and begging to stop with the torture, to take him instead of Nick though he the only thing he got back were laughter and teasing. Waking up and finally finding Nick, making sure of his injuries and being thankful that he was still alive. Waking up and following those monsters, blocking any screams so that Nick didn’t have to suffer the agony of listening helplessly while he was being tortured. Brian knew that, even if someone managed to save them from that nightmare, he would never be able to shake away those memories.

The door was a single surface, no bar to be able to look outside. This time he didn’t slam the palms or fists against it, not like he had done in the first moments: cuts and bruises were the only consequence his calls and screams had provided, as well as laughter in front of his demands for explanations. Or, at least, to free Nick. It was a futile attempt, dictated by despair and already aware that he knew tasted of ridicule. He simply had to do it, he simply had to put his hand around the handle and try to open the door. Closed. They were locked up in there and the moment of total despair made him lean his forehead against it, shivering and thanking at the same time the cold contact, while a sob went up to the throats, taking curves between the vocal cords and managed to find a little way out from his lips.

Brian could not say if it was the fault of that one and first sob but something in him snapped in that moment, taking away the last brick of control and hope that was left in him. That was the last and most painful torture, realizing that they would remain there until they would decided to let go, to die, because it was easier and less painful to continue fighting. No one would come back or no one would come because no one knew where they were. They were locked up there and the last stab was the knowledge that he had failed again, that still he hadn’t be able to protect someone so close and precious to him. It was a chain reaction, as if that one brave first tear had paved the way for everyone else, a silent army of soldiers that began to go up the street and out of his lips, shaking bones and skin and unaware of the pain they made reappear as choirs to the sides of a procession. Brian wanted to scream, he didn’t want to cry. Crying wasn’t helpful. No one would have heard them, no one would tell them that it was going to be okay. But the tears and sobs would not listen to those objections, blind and deaf they continued undeterred on their way almost as if they wanted to run away from the body and from that situation. He slid to the ground, curling up as if he could become more and more tiny until he could magically disappear. Invisible, that had always been the power that he wanted to possess. Now, however, the only power he wanted and he desiderated he could have was to be invincible, a sort of Hulk that could destroy his cell and bring Nick to safety.

At first, Brian didn’t notice the noise. How could he, for that matter? His sobs were the only sound that his mind could record, in addition to millions of thoughts that were running and running around each other. But it was hard to ignore them when the door behind him gave way, pushing him into a corner.

One, two, three footsteps entered. Laughter, big laughter. Brian looked up and his eyes faced legs covered with a pair of pants blacks. He would recognize them anywhere, even among a thousand pairs of the same color and fabric, how could he be wrong to identify what he had to stare for hours and hours while ... a chill mingled with those tears, although no sobs came from his lips. Never, he would never give them the pride, the pleasure and satisfaction of seeing him cry.

"We shouldn’t be here. You heard the boss ... "

"It 's our turn to have some fun. One last time. "

"And if he were to find out?"

"What he will ever do? Torture us? "

The laughter echoed and bounced off the walls while the two individuals stopped in front of the cot where Nick was still asleep on.

"Which one?"

"The other barely screamed. Where's the fun? "

The despair turned to anger, infusing energy into a body that had already begun to give in and wanted to rest. The hands tightened into fists while, unaware of any pain, Brian stood up, his back rigidly straight as if it had been wrapped in a cloak of steel. He couldn’t permit it.

"No." That one syllable came out in a hiss, but sounded as if he had shouted.

The two men whirled. Covered by a mask, everything that Brian could see was their eyes in the darkness, just two black points and two green that were now staring at him with a pleasant and almost manic fun.

"Oh, he regained the use of voice." Exclaimed the shortest of the two.

"Don’t you dare touching him."

"And he's also nice responsive. This means that it can be fun. - Retorted the other man, taking a step toward Brian. - Want to take the place of your friend? " He asked at the end while his companion, as to mock him, started to get closer to Nick.

"Don’t you dare. Stay away from him! "

"Let’s see, how would you like to try to stop me?"

It was an instinctive action, dictated by fear, anger and the desire not to give up without at least a last fight. And he should had known from the start that it would had been useless. It was instinct, therefore, to push Brian to throw himself against the first of their tormentors. It was a move completely useless, as that one weighed and was twice his size and he himself wasn’t that hard to block it as if he were trying to get rid of a pesky fly. Brian found himself on the ground, gasping for the fist received.

With fists and kicks, Brian found himself back on his feet, without any possibility of escape. And, even if there had been one, he certainly wouldn’t have left behind Nick.

"I know that this time we will have fun with him!" That was the last sentence that Brian’s hearing let pass and go right up to the brain. As soon as the heavy door closed behind them, in fact, Brian retired in that place that his mind had created a few days, hours or moments before. In that place there was nothing that could hurt him, there was no reason to yell or reasons why every inch of his body seemed to vibrate inflamed by bursts of pain. Perhaps if he prayed with an ounce of energy and strength more, when he would opened his eyes again, he would find out that it had been only a nightmare and he would find himself tangled in the sheets just as the sun was shining with pride over the curtains.

He could always hope.

*********

_It was one of those days when the last thing one would have wanted to do was being forced to be in a closed building, although formed by so many windows that it seemed like being literally in heaven. That day the sky was the most heavenly clear that Kevin had ever seen, with the rays of the sun playing to be reflected in the glasses and mirrors perfectly polished. It was really a shame to get stuck and bounced from office to office but, at least during breaks, Kevin had found the opportunity to disappear for a few minutes and take refuge on one of the balconies where the sun beat down with supreme arrogance, well aware of being wanted and loved by many people. The terrace wasn’t very big, it was a small space decorated with plants and earthenware tiles, almost as if someone had wanted to recreate a tiny corner of a garden in the midst of concrete and scrap metal. Ii wasn’t important if the experiment had been successful or not: the feeling, as soon as you crossed the threshold, was one of absolute peace, a breath of normalcy where the madness and the abnormal had taken control._

_With a few steps, Kevin walked over to the railing, leaning his elbows on it and letting his eyes wander along with the thousand thoughts that crowded his mind. He wasn’t still used to everything that surrounded them, he wasn’t still used to the fact that he deliberately decided to return inside that craziness: fame and popularity could have faded but it was still as if nothing had changed: there were still all those rhythms so crazy that he had tired him in the past and, certain times, he had almost came to hate that life because it didn’t allow him even a moment to breathe. But it wasn’t the same, a few changes had taken shape and substance from those crazy years and they were details and tricks that as soon as he had picked up those abandoned clothes, he had perceived the distinct feeling that they were finally a real group, because now the weight of responsibility not only weighed more on his shoulders: everyone had taken a role, each had their tasks and, together, he knew that they could accomplish much more than when they had no control._

_"It 's already time to go back in?"_

_The voice behind his back startled him not only because he had thought to be alone, but above all because the person to whom it belonged was the last that he would have thought to find him there. Sitting in the far corner from the railing, his arms wrapped around his knees and his chin resting on them, Brian looked at him with narrowed eyes, probably because of the light of the sun right behind him._

_"Hey. I didn’t see you."_

_"I'm small, I hide easily."_

_"And are you hiding here for what reason?" Kevin asked, retracing his steps and going closer to the boy. He leaned his back against the wall, deciding to close his eyes and let be caressed by those rays._

_The first real smile of the day appeared on Brian's face as he spoke a single word. "Bay. He wanted to let me know how his soccer game went."_

_"And how was it?"_

_"Winning and two goals." It was Brian’s answer, the proud tone that only a father could create even with the lower of the voices._

_"It follows the Littrell’s tradition, then."_

_"Let’s hope he won’t be touched by the curse of becoming bald and losing his voice before the age of forty."_

_It was meant to be a joke, because of the tone and word play between tradition and curse. But the meaning behind them and that sad smile, that Kevin knew that not only curved Brian’s lips but also his, told a fact that very often they had tried to mislead rather than constantly continue to give it too much space and stage. But, as in those moments, it was too impressive to dispel it away like an annoying fly. "Brian ..."_

_"I know, I know. - Brian countered, leaning his head against the wall and closing his eyes. – But there is really nothing to do for the hair."_

_"There's always the option transplant. It worked with Aj."_

_"No, no, no. - It was Brian's response between a tired laugh. – No more surgeries. I'd say I've had enough for a lifetime, no? You know what else I hope Bay won’t inherit from me? " He asked then at the end, turning his face slightly so he could observe his interlocutor. Every trace of jokes had melted in the sun, giving way to a hint of seriousness and a little bit of sadness._

_"What?"_

_"My timing. Whenever everything is close to perfection, every time that everything is aligned perfectly, I have to be the one messing up. It happened before with the whole thing of my operation and now here we are, repeating exactly the same way. We should all be satisfied, we have never been so united and well: Nick has finally become the man we all knew lurked within him; Jay finally seems to have put his head in place, you have come back more inspired than ever and Howie finally sees his talent being recognized. And then there's me. - The voice lowered, becoming a whispered breath. The gaze dropped, alighting on the fingers fiddled with the hem of the sweatshirt. - The weak link. "_

_"It's not exactly your fault." It was so, it wasn’t as if Brian had got up one morning and decided to ruin his voice or inflict himself all those months of therapy just for fun._

_"Sometimes it seems. Sometimes I get the feeling that you may have a better chance of success if I were not there to hold you back, the biggest obstacle and cumbersome. And, sometimes, I wonder why I continue undaunted to embarrass everyone. Myself first." It was the first time that Brian admitted those words in a different context from the darkness that had always protected those thoughts. But the worm, generated by cells of doubt and anxiety, had never abandoned him, almost as if it had created a perfect alcove in some part of his soul and now it was dwelling quietly in there, feeding and surviving on every notes he could hardly sing out. Those words only came out when there was no one else to help him, even when his defenses were strengthened and raised enough to hide himself inside. Not anymore it seemed, now it seemed like Brian wasn’t able anymore to lie to the people around him. And that was because his own words of comfort had lost strength and value, and a part of him needed, burned and screamed to hear someone else tell him that everything would be fine._

_For a second, the beginning of a joke began pawing to get out from Kevin’s lips but a look at his cousin was enough to understand that it wasn’t joking what Brian needed in that moment. Brian joked, Brian used jokes as a weapon of protection and defense but there were also those moments, rare and almost unique, in which he lowered his guard and showed that even him was vulnerable too. It was a defect, one that probably passed from a family’s branch to another, from generation to generation, and the passage of time had simply blunt it here and there: they still weren’t able to admit help when they needed it, they still failed to understand that weaknesses weren’t a stigma that had to be hidden in shame, especially against those who just wanted to help. That's why the joke fell away undisturbed, giving way to a doubt that he and others had set many times and only now seemed to be reflected in those blue eyes. "Did you think about it, then?"_

_The answer, at first, was announced by a look that Kevin knew so well: how many times had he seen in the mirror in the weeks before his own decision to step aside? But to see it rise inside another’s, especially Brian’s, left a bitter taste in the mouth. "Sometimes. Especially in the days when everything is falling apart. If I had been in another group or a football team, I would have been kicked out. "_

_"No one drives away anyone. - It was a harsh, determined reply that brooked no argument. It was the weapon to break down the doubt, it was the assurance that they all would have preferred to drop the curtain rather than leave one of them on the shore while they set sail for new lands. - We are a family, as strange and abnormal. We support each other, although sometimes this concept is hard to get inside your head. "_

_There was a polished veil trying to bring out the smile on the face of Brian. The fact that Brian still, or rather a part of him, couldn’t believe that he has their support made Kevin feel so completely at fault, bringing to life a sense of guilt that he had never completely dormant._

_Brian didn’t have time to respond, a voice crept behind them, announcing the presence of a third person. "Is this a family reunion? Are Carter also allowed or is it only open to Littrell and Richardson?"_

_Nick's gaze met that of Brian, preferring to use that voice to ask if everything was okay. It was strange and, at the same time, reassuring to see that at least one thing had not changed, but rather had survived all those years. Despite the years of storms, in spite of the time when those two barely exchanged a word if not linked to the group and work, Brian and Nick had been able to find a new basis on which to base their friendship, without losing that unique thread that had characterized them since their first meeting. There were moments like those, when it seemed that someone had driven a time machine and when a simple glance was enough to carry on a conversation that no one else could be heard. Even if, in fact, something had changed since that time: if so many years before Brian had taken on himself the role as the protector of Nick, now it seemed the opposite, with the younger one supporting and protecting the older._

_A cough to lighten the voice and to remember that he was also present. "What's going on?"_

_"Nothing to worry, Kevin. - Was Nick’s answer after a laugh. – I was just looking for Brian to see if he wanted to go get a coffee. "_

_A smile appeared on Brian’s face. "Someone has remembered that pledge he still have to pay for the last game lost."_

_"Lost? No, no. I have officially requested the count of points."_

_"To whom? Those old Chinese women watching us?"_

_"I didn’t lose."_

_"As usual, you can not accept that a nearly forty have beat you!"_

_"You didn’t beat me."_

_"Okay, okay. - Kevin chimed, rising to his feet. - As long as you're back with the coffee for us, you can go. "_

_Brian stood up too, shaking hands on jeans to clean away the dust taken for being seated on the floor. "Look, we don’t need your permission." He Countered into a joke, bringing to light that old joke about how Kevin, in fact, was their adoptive father._

_"I know, I know. - Kevin continued to joke, resting his hands on the shoulders of his cousin and pushing him toward the door - window. - But it doesn’t hurt to repeat it every so often. "_

_Three laughter joined together, then flew away among the skyscrapers and dispersed along with the air. On that day, in that spirit, who would have thought that something could go wrong?_

_*********_

Three days.

Seventy-two hours.

Four thousand three hundred and twenty minutes.

Three days during which anxiety had been mixed together with oxygen, in and out of the lungs as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Seventy-two hours had passed without ever close their eyes, because the darkness offered neither shelter nor consolation but only a collage of the worst nightmares that a person could have in that kind of situation. Four thousand three hundred and twenty minutes in which the guilt had taken an human form and it had taken a place right next to him, never leaving his side even for a moment of breath, always whispering accusations as sharp as daggers. It was no use, though. It was useless that presence, that ghost. He already knew it was his fault, the knowledge that disaster could had been avoided was throbbing with every beat and every breath. If only he had said no. If only he had obliged them to remain and to be responsible and abide by their commitments. If only ... Kevin shook his head, making disappear the last drop of coffee that already had lost its taste, leaving only a cold colored water.

Three days, three long and endless days during which he continued to go back to those last moments when he had seen them, that last recommendation not to be late for the interview and that thought that nothing could spoil the atmosphere. Seventy-two endless hours saturated with ifs and buts, suffocated by recriminations betting against himself before and, in the most desperate and angry, against the two men for having been so stupid and reckless. Four thousand three hundred and twenty minutes spent with the phone always at hand, seconds lost in the expectation that it could ring with some good news and try to ring two numbers that seemed, however, to be totally gone.

It hurt to think back to three days before but neither he nor Howie or Aj seemed to be able to avoid it. They didn’t think much about it when they realized that Brian and Nick were late, almost an hour later than what they were supposed to return. They had envied them, perhaps, but they were certainly past those years when they got angry for situations like these, mostly because they knew and understood much more deeply when one of them needed a break so that they wouldn’t collapse. So, they had simply opted for messages. It was there, at the tenth message without a response, they had begun to think that something wasn’t right. Phone calls had been started, though they consisted only of a ring that shortly after it was bounced to the voicemail. And, along with those unanswered phone calls, had begun to grow first concern. Then the anxiety. Finally, the fear, especially when the rings decided not to appear anymore and left the attention to a static message.

There, at that time, hell had broken. It took one day to convince the police that it was not a voluntary escape. Why should they run away, now that they were ready to release the new album? The malicious, voices full of malignity, had whispered that it was all made up to get publicity for themselves near the date of the release. It was hard to ignore those words, it was hard to ignore the instinct to silence them in the most painful way but they had survived, perhaps because all their energy were focused on finding Brian and Nick. Although the doubt, however, every now and then knocked on his door and asked to be heard. Not without reason, but with a faint and tiny foothold in that last conversation he had with Brian.

_"Did you ever think of that?"_

_"Sometimes."_

And what if it had been Brian’s way of telling him what he was about to do? Run away before he put on display all of his faults, as if they were the most horrible crime to be ashamed of. Run away before he could ruin something that could potentially be perfect. But why bring Nick along? No, there was no sense in that hypothesis, Brian would had never accepted the company of Nick in that unthinkable and stupid escape, not when it was more obvious than ever that Brian considered Nick their backbone. No, it didn’t make sense. Brian wasn’t so cowardly, he would never run away.

So a single hypothesis remained. Because all that was left was the fact that Brian and Nick seemed to have disappeared. Evaporated. Vanished. No one knew what had happened to them. No one had seen them arrive at Starbucks, no one had seen if they had been approached and taken by someone. No one had heard anything, no one had left its mark. How could it have happened? They were all groping in the dark, even the police were beginning to lose hope of finding them. Alive, at least. There had been no ransom demand, there had been no contact. Someone had taken them for some crazy reasons, without wanting, asking or demanding anything in return. Something to get them back.

Behind him, Howie walked back and forth while talking on the phone in a corner; sitting in front of a computer, Aj controlled every existing site or forum for fans to find out if anyone had seen Brian and Nick. They had never stop, they had never strayed from that hotel room. They had made each other stronger, they had rebelled against the sphere of silence that enveloped the fate of their friends, their brothers, and they had continued to search in spite of all the concrete walls that they found themselves to fight against. They had to find Brian and Nick. They would find Brian and Nick, at any cost and effort.

Instinctively, as an automatic reaction, Kevin’s hand retrieved his phone, typing a number that he knew would be turned off. It was the habit, it was the hope that kept him making that call. In three days, no one had answered. In seventy-two hours, there had been no rings. In four thousand three hundred and twenty minutes no ...

That time, however, there was a ring. Followed by a second, and then by a third, a fourth. Kevin only managed to mutter a feeble "boys" as he continued to listen to that noise, even when the unmistakable beat of the heart began to beat strongly against the ribs.

"Answer. Brian, damn you, pick up." He found himself praying, swearing and wishing each ring. The line went dead, as the message of the voice mail started. Kevin lifted his gaze for a few seconds, finding himself in front of AJ and Howie staring at him with an expression of confusion and, at the corners, even a little 'of hope.

"Brian's phone. - He only said as he dialed the number again. - Up until now it has always been off. Now is playing. But not responding."

"Keep calling. Meanwhile, I think the police could trace the number or anything ... " Howie he picked up his phone, moving away just enough to be able to call without losing what was going on.

Still the phone rang in vain. Still that damn answering machine. Still rings. But this time, before the answering machine, a beep announced the unexpected presence of a message. No, not a simple message. A photo. At first glance, Kevin did not understand what it meant: it was blurred, due to the use of the flash. A portion of a room, gray judging by the color. Only after a few seconds, it plugged into his mind who it belonged that central figure in the image.

Brian.

Although that figure had little of the man, just a few strokes had remained still recognizable and identifiable: the hair had turned completely dark, straight wires that seemed to have become one with the skin while blood and dirt couldn0tt hide wounds and bruises and only the pronounced jaw kept saying that it wasn’t a joke. The tank top was the only remaining clothes from what he wore the day of his abduction, though now it was reduced to shreds and that little wasn’t able to hide the other signs of those three days of what Kevin could only call it as a torture: bruises drew abstract images on the skin, abrasions and scratches and wounds that he could only hope to be superficial.

It was Brian. Unrecognizable. Brian was sitting on the ground and curled up, as if he were waiting for something or someone to tell him what was going to happen. It was Brian, in whose eyes there was no expression, only one dull and lifeless gray that was enough to open a vortex that quickly grew its claws into his stomach. A voice began to require attention: the words, which told of being too late, however, wanted him to pay attention to them but he ignored them, focusing every detail, even the smallest that could tell him the whereabouts of his cousin. He ignored, too, the groan of horror that had the unmistakable voice of Howie and the curse, unique, from Aj: that wasn’t the time to be deterred by emotions, despair would have to turn to anger, and this was the only source of energy that could keep him standing until, finally, they would find their two friends. He ignored that little detail, the absence of Nick, because giving it importance meant opening the doors to the worst assumptions. They just had to trust that Brian would not allow anyone to hurt Nick

"Wait. I think I know where they are. "

All eyes were pointed at Aj. "How? He could be anywhere! "

"No, no. I remember it perfectly, it is one of the many shit I've done ... - Aj's eyes darkened for a second, as always when he remembered the years he was more ashamed of. It was his hand that threw away those words, as if he was doing the same with those images. - Well, you know when. "

"And you're sure you recognize this room?"

"Note the wall. There are writings. Try doing a zoom here. - He continued to explain, pointing to a spot behind Brian's head, near the tiny window which didn’t let the light in. Enlarging that point, bones crossed and letters began to be seen. – I did those myself. _Bone._ ”

"Okay. Even if it is the same place ... "

"It's the same place. - Aj interrupted Howie before he could continue. - Look, I know that my memory with the songs is not always perfect but I wouldn’t forget that night for the world. I was an idiot, nothing new, and this group of guys promised me free drugs if I passed some sort of test. That room is a closet that is located in a basement years ago and was used as a sort of prison. It is said that no one has ever managed to get out alive and that their ghosts still live there. The dumbest thing ever invented, because I've spent one night and it was the most boring one of my life. "

"And the writing?"

Aj shrugged. "I had to find a way to keep myself busy."

Kevin hadn’t said nothing yet, his eyes wandered by pointing first on the face of Aj and then on the photo of Brian while he seemed to hear a clock ticking with more and more power. "Are you sure? This is no time to play or shoot at random, Aj." He wanted to believe it, after hours and days of futile hopes that had become weak, he wanted to believe that they were so close to put everything in place. But what if Aj was wrong? How could he be sure that that was the place where he had spent a night for ten years before?

"Kevin, I'm sure."

None of them had never been nor seemed so serious as at that time. What did they have to lose, after all? Maybe it would turn into a hole in the water but they had always that image and the phone now that Brian had finally turned on. Might as well try.

"Do you remember where was it?"

The first pursed smile on the face of Aj. "Of course."

The last hope wasn’t pronounced aloud. Each of them only muttered to themselves, as one of those prayers that had more chance of being heard if combined with other words. That last hope, designed in unison, remained in the room to wait while the three quickly took their jackets and headed out into perhaps the solution to that nightmare. That last hope was to be able to get back there together with Brian and Nick. That last hope was the prayer to be able to save them before it was too late.

*********

_Waiting._

_It was strange how that verb had become the most used word in those hours. Each of the people in that room had declined it in its own way, but even if they had changed the shape and the contours, its substance didn’t differ from one to other. Hours, minutes and seconds had elapsed in equal measure and the only factor that they had in common was the feeling of how, in reality , the time hadn’t really passed but it had been only one and infinite line._

_Waiting._

_Brian had waited. For what, he had ceased to ask himself after the last torture. He could only call it like that, that was the only way he could define what had happened. A torture. Or a nightmare, depending on which part of him was winning in that moment. Because there was still a part of his mind convinced that this was only a nightmare, a web that was wrapped so tightly around his brain as to make it impossible to wake up now. Brian had been waiting for a sign, anything that could tell them that the nightmare had come to its final stages, although now it didn’t even mattered how it would end. Yes, Brian had waited but had abandoned the faith and hope, tired of those minutes that seemed to take forever. What had held him in that waiting had been only anger and the urge to protect Nick at any cost. He no longer cared what fate had in store for him. So he waited. He waited for the next noise, would wait the next shouts and laughter. He would wait to escape with Nick._

The darkness had taken possession of that little room, making it now impossible to distinguish the shadows that roamed undisturbed along the perimeter.

Brian and the darkness had always had a close relationship, though convoluted and complicated. It had started and marked by hating each other, in those early years when he had been taught to be wary of that black because it was the place where all the nightmares were born and fed so that they would grow and become bigger and stronger. Then, with the passage of time, they had created a sort of mutual distrust: they didn’t hate each other but they managed to live together with one another without ever exchanging a word or make eye contact. One day, however, that relationship had changed and had become a sort of complicity. Darkness had become his best friend, darkness offered him the perfect hiding place where he could hide any secret and anxiety, closing that side of him differed from the picture and the label that had been given to him as soon as the group began to enjoy success. And that had been the case even for the following years, where darkness was the only one allowed to catch a glimpse of his fragility, the only one that welcomed his secrets and doubts without groped to console or comfort him. Darkness was the only one to have witnessed the tears falling silently and had never lifted a finger to erase them away, just as he had always wanted and desired.

At that moment, in those long and endless moments of imprisonment, darkness had become an invisible accomplice. Light couldn’t do anything because there was nothing to hold on to or to use to save them. So darkness hid his bruises, hid the wounds that had not yet stopped bleeding and, above all, hid the tears that now started to make their way down without having to ask permission to show beyond the eyes. Darkness could hide all above from the look Nick had given him as soon as he returned to the room after that interminable period of torture. He had hoped , oh sure he had, to come back without being noticed by Nick, even though he was well aware that this time pain would had been more difficult to ignore it. But it had been impossible to hide from Nick. Maybe because now there were no more energy available to pick up the mask once he entered that door, perhaps because this time the pain was much more palpable and almost the only voice that Brian could hear, like a melody made with only one key out of tune. But in the condition they were in, there was little Nick could do to help, considering that he could barely stand up. And every attempt had fallen helpless as soon as Brian found himself screaming for that brief gesture to raise what little was left of his undershirt.

They were both exhausted. They were now weary and tired, still clinging to the tentative hope for someone to save them. But, at least in Brian, now that hope had been overtaken and almost eaten by the knowledge that only one of them would be able to get out of it alive and that wasn’t a voluntary wish of death or unstoppable desire to give up. It was a realization that it had been born in those moments that, now, were hidden in the darkness: that torture would never end, it would never come to an end because, in a sick and twisted way, it seemed to be the biggest fun for those people. They would always come back until one between him and Nick would be dead. Only that would be successful in stopping them.

Another conviction was born from that awareness, a burst of energy that had been rekindled in that body and in the mind, now both exhausted . Brian didn’t want to die in that way: surrender was a word that had never been included in his vocabulary. Most importantly, he couldn’t allow letting Nick die in that way. He had to fight, he had to fight for both of them, even if he still had to admit defeat in the end. But what else could they do? They just had to keep waiting for something they didn’t even know if it would be back again? Staying there like a fire slowly dying with its last flames? No, Brian couldn’t and wouldn’t afford it.

It was adrenaline making him think that way. It was adrenaline making him staying on his knees first and then slowly get up in his foot. It was adrenaline, again, making him put his pain in a drawer and then throw it away, as far away as possible from the consciousness and lucidity to be victims again. Just when Brian stood there, waiting for the world to stop hovering around him like a child around its companion, a noise came from the small window. It was the sound of cars, although he couldn’t understand if they were stopping or starting: in any case, it was the opportunity that he was waiting for. It was their only chance to escape without the fear of being caught or the ability to find the help that they both had given up hoping to find.

"Nick!" Brian found himself exclaimed and, driven by adrenaline, he came closer to the cot where Nick was asleep. He couldn’t remember exactly when Nick had fallen asleep, since he had found himself closing his eyes and indulge for a few minutes or hours, in the quiet comfort of darkness.

"Nick! - He called again when the first time didn’t produce any effect. A jolt, albeit a weak one, and then a second. – Nicky, Frack!" No response. Not even a hint to let him sleep a few more minutes since Kevin would be the last as usual.

"Nick... please. - Brian only managed to murmur, resting his head against Nick’s chest. - You can’t give up now." Despair joined adrenaline, holding him captive and unable to formulate a plan for a few moments. It couldn’t end like this, they couldn’t give in and let them won so easily and quickly. How was he supposed to show up without him? How was he supposed to tell everyone that not only he had failed but he couldn’t protect, defend and save Nick?

In the mist of the dark, though, something rose up like a small glimmer of hope: the sound of a heart pounding against his ear. It was that sound that made Brian move from that position like a statue in which he had fallen as soon as he had realized that he had failed. It was that sound that made Brian cling to the tiny but strong hope that nothing had been lost yet: as long as that heart would keep beating, as long as those lungs continued to let air in and out, he could still hope of being able to save both of them.

There was no time to waste. "You'll see, it will be Kevin to yell at you because you don’t want to wake you." Brian used it as a joke as he wiped his tears quickly with the palm of the hand. In a gesture veiled by darkness, he leaned a quick kiss on Nick’s temple, just like he would have done if there had been Baylee in his place.

Every pain, every doubt, every desire to surrender himself to oblivion were driven away by the determination that had taken possession of every vein and artery inside his body, fiercely pumping blood with that message of not giving up. And if there was one thing that Brian had always been sure about himself was just that: the obstinacy and stubbornness to continue walking his road even when everything was screaming to stop because it wasn’t worth the effort. And that was one of the many things that he and Nick shared together: they had always been stubborn, they had always finished what they started and, above all , they never give up, even in front of the largest and most impressive difficulty.

With a speed that surprised even him, Brian headed for the door. Every plan of escape would collapse like sand under the waves if that door was still locked. His heart was beating almost painfully against the sternum and that crazy beat was the only sound that his hearing could capture. But Brian wanted, however, to diminish the volume so that he could pick up any noise of danger coming from the outside.

His fingers wrapped around the handle and with the thum thum beating in his ears, Brian tried to open the door. Until that moment he hadn’t known what to expect, maybe he just wanted to be prepared for the worst and the infinite observation that they would never be able to go out from there. But a part of him, albeit small, and living with every little ounce of energy left inside him, had never stopped to hope that something was bound to happen. At least it had to happen, one way or another.

And that small part had brought home a first victory .

The handle lowered and, creaking, the door began to open up letting a first glimpse of the yellow light that lighted up the hallway. Brian had to blink several times, no longer accustomed to being in direct contact with the light after all those hours and time spent in obscurity. Once accustomed to the change, Brian opened the door and crossed the boundary that marked the long corridor from that room: white walls, now dirty and with some piece of plaster already peeling from the higher corners; chipped tiles and saturated with dust and dirt. In addition, there seemed to be no one, not even the slightest sound of footsteps approaching or receding.

It was now or never.

Brian quickly returned in the cell and then reached Nick. There laid the first flaw of his plan: he couldn’t leave Nick there. What was the point of escaping if he had to leave Nick behind? That had been his only objection every time Nick had told him that he should have tried to escape: he couldn’t leave without knowing if _they_ would come back or not. He wasn’t going to leave Nick behind and venture out with the risk of getting lost wherever they had been brought. Were they still in New York? He remembered nothing of the trip, expect for the hands of panic that had kept him prisoner while he was trying so hard to keep some kind of control in that situation. But still, on the other hand, it was so damn difficult to carry Nick out. He could try, yes, but he wasn’t sure how strong he could be. Not to mention the state of his back... what could he do, then?

“ _Think Brian_ \- Brian said to himself - _think of a solution_.” But there wasn’t a solution or so it seemed to be. Not, at least, a solution that could take both of them out of that room as quickly as possible.

Footsteps came from above his head and they were quick and shipped. Lot of footsteps and that told that there were more than two people. All of his determination, strained threads collected in those few moments, seemed to start to collapse under the weight of panic and despair, bigger and more powerful than before. _They_ were back. His greatest fear. _They_ had come back and, more, they had brought along friends, as if it were one big party where they, him and Nick, were the main and biggest surprise. Oh no, Brian wasn’t going to let it happen again. A last ray of determination rose up from where it had been hiding until that moment and it was born from the desire not to allow to be touched and marked again. His eyes started to turn around in search of something, even if he didn’t know exactly what he was looking for. A way out? A secret door that would allow them to escape without being caught and chased? A sort of weapon?

A twinkle, caused by a ray of light that fell in that corner that still he hadn’t checked, caught Brian’s attention. A weapon. Or at least something he could use to defend Nick. He walked over and only when he was not so far from it, Brian realized that it was a piece of glass that it might belonged to a bottle that someone had broken and then left it there. The footsteps were getting closer and closer with each second along with voices that he couldn’t seem to grab the meaning of the words that were shouted. All that Brian knew, all that he could focus was on the fact that salvation, or at least its illusion, had been shattered in front of his eyes and the danger had come back stronger than ever.

But he was ready to fight. This time, he wouldn’t surrender so easily. His fingers tightened around the piece of glass and he didn’t care or even notice that if that makeshift blade scarred his skin or the pain created by the contact. There was only one thing on Brian’s mind, one only thought: no one would get through that door, even if it meant that they had to walk over his dead body. No one would get the chance to start that torture all over again.

One thing Brian was sure of at that moment: he would fight. And he wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

*********

_Waiting._

_Howie, Aj and Kevin had waited since that first moment when they had realized that Brian and Nick were missing. Minutes had followed one another, hours had become days and, lastly, when finally a sign had appeared, those had changed back in being minutes, long and slow as if they were a week. There, finally being there in the place where they friends were being kept captive, they had to wait to know if they hadn’t been mistaken. They had to wait to know if Brian and Nick were inside those grey and abandoned buildings._

If there was one thing that Aj hadn’t been able to learn during all those years was, in fact, waiting. He had always been an impatient child, kid and then grown man, eager to see the results of his work as soon as possible. That had been one of the thousands and more reasons why he had found himself tangled up inside the web of alcohol and drugs: he didn’t want to wait months and months for the fears and pain to be washed away, he wanted to destroy them immediately. Alcohol had helped him though it had showed its high price only years later and with an ironical and sarcastic fist: to be able to find a new and kinda stable sense of normality, in fact, Aj had found himself doing what he had always hated. Waiting and be patient.

That particular day seemed to be part of a movie, although the screenplay seemed so poorly written that nobody would had ever wanted to watch it or act in it. Or, maybe, it seemed that way because the main characters were Brian and Nick, friends and brothers, instead than some anonymous and stranger with an evident lack of acting skills. That day had started in the same and exact way as the two before, buried under the weight of the watch for something new or for, at least, a new clue. But then everything had stopped and everything had changed shape and substance of those hours. That picture, sent as a text, had been the sign that they had been waiting for and, at the same time, the one they were fearing: in that image, between pixels and faded shadows, there were imprinted the sings of those days. Mostly, there was the proof that Brian and Nick hadn’t gone missing voluntary and neither had been captured for a generous ransom.

Time moved quickly after that. They didn’t stand and did nothing. As soon as he had recognized the place, no second or minute had been wasted in stopping and asking, for the second time, if he was sure, He was, damned him if he wasn’t! Little things he still could remember from that period of his life, few nights had left a memory impressed inside his mind, already well known for not being that reliable and trustworthy. But he remembered that building. He remembered the neighborhood, he remembered those houses and abandoned warehouses that seemed to create a sort of small ghost town lived by only the ones who knew how to walk silently through its streets. Those were people who still lived there and never let themselves seen, kinda like that moment: the street was full of police cars and the lights of due ambulances and yet no one had dared to watch from their window, even if only for trying to understand what was happening or out of curiosity. And, from the sad and frustrated expression of those two policemen, no one seemed to have seen or heard anything.

Yes, Aj remembered perfectly that place. He remembered that it was a rainy night and that he had been forced to listen to that lonely melody coming from that small window. He remembered how he hadn’t been able to tell when the night gave way to the day, since light and sunrays couldn’t get into that underground room, so that it seemed to be in an infinite reign of darkness. He remembered that, in the middle of those hours all the same, he had promised to himself to change and not to touch a bottle in the future years, just so that he could avoid being caught in situation like those. But, just live each and every promise he had made in the previous weeks, even that one had gone and became only a faded memory.

But even though Aj was sure that they were in the right place, doubt kept crawling inside him and nagging like a seed. What if it wasn’t the right place? His fingers trembled and held tight against the cigarette he had been smoking, though already almost burned and with ashes ready to fall at the first breath of wind. Smoking was the only vice he hadn’t been able to erase but at that moment he didn’t really care if it was bad for his voice. What if he had been wrong? It could be, albeit it was a small chance. He could be wrong and he wouldn’t ever been able to forgive himself if they were wasting time. How long did it take for the police to go out from the building and tell them whether he was right or wrong? Maybe they were still searching, maybe they had just realized it had been a waste and so there was no point in rushing just to tell them the truth. Or, maybe, he hadn’t been wrong but there was no need in rushing and hurry because they arrived when it was too late. None of them had been able to forget that image sent to Kevin’s phone, even though they hadn’t talked about it or had really made a comment about it. At least, not out loud. Because Aj was so sure that each one of them had kept seeing and seeing it again, wondering if it had been all a dream, a nightmare, instead of that reality that they had a hard time believing it was real. They knew, all of them, that seeing Brian with their own eyes was going to be then thousand times much worse and they knew that there was the slight possibility to find only one of them, only Brian if that picture was supposed to be a clue. Mentally, during the journey to arrive in that place, they had prepared themselves to the worst. In reality, they still hoped to enter in that building only to find Brian and Nick without a scratch and a stupid excuse as they had locked themselves in that room and didn’t know how to get out.

The running of his thoughts got interrupted by what was starting to happen there in front of him, there where Kevin had been stopped by some policemen because he couldn’t get inside the building. Aj had been sure that Kevin would had made a stand, stating every reasons possible and imaginable to justify that he needed to be there; instead, Kevin just lowered his head and nodded but he didn’t go back to the car where him and Howie were still waiting. Now... now it seemed like something had happened. Aj let the cigarette fall on the street before going over there, still and more afraid about what he was going to hear.

*********

Years and years of experiences, detective Anderson had seen practically everything with his own eyes: robberies, assaults, and homicides, more or less brutal. He had seen almost everything and there were few things that could still shake him like he was at his first experience. That case had been strange since the beginning and not only because they had to deal with two celebrities gone missing. Yes, he had to admit that his first hypothesis had been a publicity stunt or, more likely, a voluntary escape and that had been confirmed, at least partially, by those bits of information that he had gathered during the first hours of investigation. Still, something was missing and it wasn’t only liked to the fact that the other three members of the group had kept saying that it wasn’t the usual behavior of their missing friends. What made that case so unusual was the fact that these two guys seemed to have vanished in the middle of New York and no one had seen something, even the smallest detail that could lead them towards a direction or another. No ransom, no motive, by the clicking of the clock that case became stranger and stranger. It just seemed like an unlucky case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, just because they found themselves in that place and not because they were two pop stars with a wallet full of money.

No, there were few things that still made detective Anderson shudder but what he had witnessed in that small room had came closer to it. He knew that the look and expressions seen in those blue eyes would haunted him for a long time because he knew that type of desperation, he had seen it in its all cruelty in the eyes of the ones who had to steal or make something crazy and useless because they didn’t know how to survive; he had seen it in victims who hadn’t any other solution but to repay their aggressor with their own money, brought so low that forced them to have a weapon within his hands and not be afraid to use it. That was what he saw in that room, he had seen a man completely deprived of every logic and with only the instinct of survival to go and move on. A man that could be his own son, a man who everyone had said that had never been violent o threaten to be. Or threaten to kill anyone who dared to come closer to that door, to him and to his friend. That was the biggest clue, along with the scars and the wounds on his skin, that told what had happened in those three, almost four, days of torture. A wrong step and detective Anderson doubted that he wouldn’t keep faith to what he had promised to do, as in use that sharp glass against one of them. Or against himself. And that wasn’t a thought that didn’t stray too far from the reality, especially if he was thinking that the other alternative was being tortured once again.

“We’ve got a situation.” He said to the other members of the group who were waiting for them outside the building.

“What kind of situation?” Asked the one that he had come to call simply Kevin and not Mr. Richardson.

“Was I wrong? Isn’t it where Brian and Nick are?”

“No, no. – Anderson reassured Aj, the one who had recognized that place from a small and faded image. – It’s the right place. We found them.”

“So? What seems to be the problem? Are they still being kept prisoner?”

“We have checked the entire perimeter and there is no trace of their kidnappers. The door of the room where they had been both...”

“Both? Does this mean that there is even Nick?” Kevin asked, implying the other question that was pronounced only with the eyes. _Is he still alive?_

“We still haven’t been able to get into. From what we could see it seems that both of them are in the room.”

Relief escaped in a sigh, making its way between Kevin and Aj while Howie seemed to be the only one who had picked up the first part of Anderson’s admission. Until that moment, he had been silent, in a corner, and had only offered comfort to Kevin while praying to be able to get out from that nightmare. “You can’t get into? Why?”

“That’s the problem. Mr. Littrell...”

“Brian.”

“... Brian is convinced that we are the enemy, ready to torture them once again. His only thought, now, is only to survive and protect Mr.. Nick.”

“And this, for you, is a problem? I mean, how much strong Brian can be after being tortured?”

“He’s armed. And I don’t have doubt about the fact that he might try to hurt himself only to prevent other tortures. Or hurt Nick only to protect him.

“What can we do, then?”

“You have to keep in mind that the man that is standing now inside that building isn’t the same Brian you know. Days of tortures, and who knows what kind of, can really mess up someone, even the one strongest and who never back down. He’s totally burned out so, right now, every stranger that comes up is the enemy in his eyes. A known face or voice can help, though I’m not that sure.”

Aj, Kevin and Howie didn’t say anything, a nod of the head was enough to answer in front of that question.

“Another thing. – Detective Anderson interrupted them before they could start to walk over the building. – It’s better if you enter there being prepared of what you are going to see.”

“We’ve seen the picture.”

“That picture isn’t new, it’s probably from yesterday or a day even prior.”

“How can you be sure?”

“The fact that wounds, bruises and injuries don’t match up with the ones Brian is spotting now. They must have tortured him once again from the moment they took that photo.”

The three just swallowed back their fear and shock. There was no time to waste, there was no hesitation left in them. They didn’t even want to stop and reflect on that dark picture painted by those statements. Because that was the mantra that Howie, Aj and Kevin had been repeated since from the beginning: it didn’t matter what had happened to them, not at the moment. What mattered was only to bring Brian and Nick back home.

And finally they could.

*******

Destroyed. Shattered. Defeated. There wasn’t another way to explain how Brian was feeling in that moment. Even if only for a minute, he really thought and believed that finally luck seemed to be on his side; even if only for a second, he had thought that it was all his mind’s fault: raffled by the fear, it had created that rumors of steps coming closer and closer. Oh, what a stupid illusion! He couldn’t tell who those people in front of him were, he couldn’t tell if they were friends of their kidnappers or if they were stating the truth when they said that they only were policemen. How could he be sure? How could he believe them? What if he did, what if he trust them and only end up being tortured again?

His fingers tightened around the piece of glass he was still holding, pointing its sharp tip against those men. A step back, a glance to where Nick still lied without moving or waking up and that look gave him more strength to fight back: he couldn’t back down now, he couldn’t let be fooled only because his back was against the wall and there was no way out. He owned it to Nick.

So Brian didn’t say anything. His chest heaved under the intensity of his breathing but there wasn’t any trace of voice, or at least what had been left of it that could rise up objection. He didn’t even care about what those people were saying to him. He decided that he couldn’t trust them because he didn’t know them, as they were strangers, and their promises of salvation and freedom seemed to be only empty words, nets ready to trap him if he didn’t pay attention or if he trusted them so easily. But, among between that chaos and confusion, a small flame was trying to make its way so that it could be heard: it was the flame of hope, the flame that was whispering how it was the moment to let go because that help so yearned and desiderated had finally came.

He wanted to trust them. Like he had always done, Brian wanted to trust his instinct and leaned on that strength that had allowed him to get through the hardest time, not to mention about making choice and decisions that seemed to be a failure even before starting. 

“Brian?”

That voice. Brian knew that voice. “ _I’ve knew him all my life_ ”, that was what that voice had always said in every interview. How could he not recognize that voice, then? And, as always, Kevin was the one coming and saving him from the troubles he got caught. That was how he managed to convince him and his brother to let him tag alone when they were all children. At first, they didn’t want him, adducing excuses like “ _mom will be mad if you hurt yourself and we have to get you into a hospital again_ ”, though his favorite was “ _we’re going to places where only the adults can go.”_ He never believed those words so he always followed them, since he was more agile and it was easier for him to hide behind a tree; but still, he always ended up in some kind of trouble or doing something he shouldn’t had and it was always Kevin that would come and help him.

“Brian? It’s me. It’s Kevin.”

Kevin was there. Did it mean that they were finally safe? Brian blinked once, twice, trying to erase that fog of exhaustion and pain that clouded his eyes and only made him see figures without lines or outlines: there were always that black uniforms but now three colored points had joined them and, even if it was hard to tell, he was starting to recognize familiar features. Still, doubt and panic kept trying to turn down that flame every time it shone a little bit brighter, every time Brian reassured himself that they were indeed safe. But were they? Were they really safe?

_“No one is going to save you. No one knows where you are, no one knows that you’ve been kidnapped. We are the ones who can decide whether to tell them or to keep playing this game. And, to be honest, we’re having so much fun! Why should we ruin our own party? No one is coming to save you.”_

They were right. Those voices were right while Kevin’s one was just a mere illusion. It had to be an illusion and he must had been to the point of going crazy if he could imagine the voice of someone who couldn’t be there. Kevin didn’t have the gift of foresight so it was impossible that he had been able to find out where he and Nick had been taken.

“Don’t come closer.” Those few words were intimated in a low voice but Brian brought his improbable weapon in front of his chest, like he wanted to make it more dangerous.

“Brian, no one here wants to hurt you. It’s over. The nightmare is over.” Fake Kevin, that was how Brian decided to call him, kept talking to him, reassuring him or at least trying to. And the doubt, instead than being washed over, sneaked more inside Brian’s mind, like a small voice whispering and whispering and he didn’t know anymore who he had to trust: doubt or his instinct?

The uncertainty made his hand shook with trembles or, maybe, those shivers had always been present and only now Brian could acknowledge them, whether because they were much more intense or because even his hands were bone tired. “How can I be sure?” How could he be? For all that he could knew, he could be still asleep and just be dreaming of being saved. No, he couldn’t listen to fake Kevin, he had to protect Nick and himself.

Kevin, fake Kevin, didn’t have time to reply though. There was a gasp, a muffled scream and even before Brian could ask what had happened again, once again, another voice made him turn. There was the first, the most tangible sign that he was indeed still sleeping though now he couldn’t seem to distinguish between having a dream or being in a nightmare. That sign was seeing Nick standing on his feet and trying to come closer to him, even though clearly struggling and trying to silence the painful wince every time his ankle touched the ground.

“Nick, step behind me!” Brian hissed to him, with a surely shocked expression painted inside his eyes. How could Nick not be aware of the danger? How could Nick not understand that they were only hallucinations? No one was there to save them. They were there only for another session of torture.

“B. There’s no need for you to keep protecting me. We’re not in danger anymore.”

Puzzled, frowning, Brian still looked at Nick like he was the one who couldn’t understand the situation.. “Are you seeing my same hallucinations?”

“If you meant Kevin’s eyebrows, then yes. – A raspy and hoarse laughter escaped from Nick’s lips. – I don’t think that those would ever be a hallucinations.”

It was strange, for Nick, being in that situation with the roles completely turned around and shifted in less of a day. Where Brian had always been the one reassuring him that everything would be alright and that someone was surely coming to save them, now it was Nick that had to do the same. There was no hesitation in his steps or in his words, though he couldn’t shake away a lingering fear realizing how worse their situation had became while he had been unconscious. What had happened? What had happened to Brian to bring him to that place, that labile border where one couldn’t differ from reality and his nightmare.

Nick didn’t know where that self-confidence came from. Maybe maturity had finally found its way through pain and fear, sly fear that was trying to tell him that Brian was right and that their nightmare wasn’t finished. “B, you did it. We’re safe. There’s no need for you to keep protecting me.”

“Are...are you sure?” This time, Brian’s voice was small, almost drowned by the other sounds inside that room, breathing and beatings that seemed louder and intense than before.

Behind him, Kevin nodded. “Yes, Brian. They aren’t here anymore. You are safe.”

Brian kept his face towards Nick, still unsure if he had to believe those words. Once, he would have trusted them. And maybe he would had trusted them if it had been another situation. What he was sure of was that Nick needed to be treated. Even him. And that was what made him decide to have faith and trust them. Could he put his and Nick’s life in risk being stubborn and refusing help? Wasn’t that a contradiction? “Okay.” He just admitted something that tasted of defeat. He lowered his hand but still his fingers didn’t let go of the piece of glass.

From that admission seemed to originate a sort of vortex: people started to move quickly all around Brian and Nick, shouting orders and sentences that didn’t have any sense to Brian, Someone placed a hand on Brian’s shoulder, taken his by surprise that he just had to act on instinct, raising his arm up again and pointing that weapon that now, even at his weary eyes, seemed so ridiculous. So ridiculous that it was quickly dodge, let it fall on the ground along with drops of blood. His blood. A blanket was put around him, other voices joined Kevin’s, though he didn’t know whether it was real or fake.

“Nick... Nick is hurt...” His request was soon silenced by reassurances about how he didn’t need to worry anymore because there were already people attending Nick’s wounds.

“It’s over. Brian, it’s over.” A last reassurance, another attempt to calm a soul that had already surrendered itself to the panic, the pain and the fatigue. And yet, with a last strand of conscience, Brian could only think about how those words seemed to be an illusion. Maybe, that torture was over but there was no doubt that another would start soon because shadows and nightmares wouldn’t stay in that room but they were going to go out with them, as silent but faithful friends.


End file.
